The melody
by sherlollian2016m
Summary: Sherlolly , bittersweet angst , little bit sad


Sherlock got the violin case out of its place. He moved his hand on it to remove the dust it held over the years. It's been decades since he played this one. After all there was only one melody he teased its strings with over the years he owned it.

He stood in the middle of the room preparing himself, but before he played he recalled his memories with the melody.

* * *

It kept unwritten for years. It wasn't easy to possess a violin in his two years mission to destroy the Moriarty web. He composed it out of need. He needed her around him in his darkest time. Just like she always has been. It was a priority that he hid for days to compose it before he started his war. He tried to make it included all her features he discovered through the years they knew each other. Her kindness, her strength, her proficiency, even her morbid sense of humor. He needed all of her with him and this was the only way he knew how.

He wrote the note in his mind palace and put it in the middle of a hidden room. He could hear the tune in his head as it was played every time he felt down, all the moment he thought he wouldn't make it, he wouldn't return back home.

* * *

He eventually got back home. And the melody was no longer needed. She was standing in front of him looking to his reflection in her mirror and smiling. Or at least he thought he wouldn't need it. He almost missed the signs, the whiteness on her finger from the missing ring, her putting her usual overweight when she was in a serious relationship. He couldn't help but to feel he lost her again. He smiled sadly at the thought when he remembered he never had her in the first place.

The day they spent together was heaven on earth, he didn't totally lie when he told her it was a thank you for everything she did for him, but he knew deep down he wanted her close to him even for few hours before she got married and life stood between them.

He put the chips he bought on the table and walked to his room. He wanted to write the melody down. He searched for the musical note stand or the music note papers but he couldn't find them anywhere. He made a mental note to buy them in the morning and he reached for his violin case. Dust was over it, he removed it with a small towel. He took the violin out of the case and closed the room's door. He stood in the middle and closed his eyes, raising his arm to start playing. After all, he played it dozens of time in his head. He didn't need a written version to be able to play it.

He entered the music instruments store to buy what he was short of, and he saw it, a vantage violin, handcrafted work, unique, beautiful and strong. Just like her. He reached his home with the new tools. He put the papers on the stand, got the new violin out of the new case, and started to write the melody down. When he finished, he put the notes with the violin on the case and hid it so Mrs. Hudson wouldn't find it.

The next time he played it was after John's wedding, he always said alone protected him, but he never felt as lonely as he felt at the moment. He stopped counting how much he played it when John got married and before he took the Magnusson's case, but he knew exactly the day he didn't get the violin out of its case, the day he knew her engagement was over.

* * *

She was his.

After the Eurus events, she was his as much as he was hers. They went through hell that was mostly made by him to reach this point. Life smiled to both of them and gave her present as the shape of long happy marriage, he had no need to play the melody as she was herself by his side, he didn't need a weak retreat to lie on in his hard times, she's always been there.

* * *

Sherlock opened his eyes after remembering all the times he played the melody in. He took his time looking to the empty wide cold bed before gazing at the photo frames she insisted on keeping next to bed no matter how much he complained it wasn't logical and they would never forget how their grandchildren looked like, she always answered simply he was missing the point. He looked to the other side of the bed where he put two frames with her photos. She seemed happy in them. He really wished to ask her if she was happy with him, if he could have been a better husband, a better man for her. But as the time wasn't that kind for them, he only had those photos as an answer.

He breathed deeply and closed his eyes again and started to play his melody of Molly Hooper.


End file.
